What Matters Most
by djmichealsfics
Summary: This is not a Team-friendly fic. Instead it deals with a two person journey. Concrit is welcome but panning the story is because it doesn't paint 'your' person in a positive light is not. This is my 2013 LJ Ficathon entry for AngstQueen. ** Sometimes something so terrible happens, that it changes everything. But those changes are not always such a bad thing


It's funny how your life goes to hell in a hand basket with no warning. One minute everything is smooth sailing and the next, a white squall has sunk your ship leaving you adrift on a tiny postage stamp raft that barely holds your weight let alone the piles of baggage you carry with you in the form of regret, guilt, and recriminations.

It started so simply, really. They'd had an argument, nothing big even. Over dirty socks or wet towels or...fuck, he couldn't even remember what the argument was about. Just angry words and hurt feelings and slammed doors. Nothing was made about it, it was their habit. One or the other would slam out, return around an hour later, make the coffee, and then they would talk it out. Volatile tempers, the both of them, Jethro's not even concealed by a bastard exterior and Tony's hidden under the layers of the immature, easy going mask he had perfected since childhood.

When Tony didn't come home after an hour, Gibbs had bitched aloud a little and made his own coffee. After two hours, he left a message for Tony saying he was concerned. Three hours and he was beyond worried. Tony didn't answer and his usual haunts hadn't seen him - and Gibbs checked - the youth center, the coffee shop down on Hamilton Avenue (not the one on Hamilton Road because Tony thought their coffee tasted like rat piss), the bookstore he took McGee to when he had writer's block, the firing range on Plantation Road, even the Navy Yard. At the three and a half hour mark Tony's friend Detective Marcos showed up at the door.

Gibbs knew in his head that once Tony walked out that door, nothing would have changed what happened, but in his heart he couldn't stop the recriminations. If he hadn't picked the fight with Tony, if he had just done whatever it was that Tony wanted him to do, said whatever Tony wanted him to say, if he had just...

It happened at Tony's favorite park, a runner going by had seen the entire thing, called 911, and even then, it was already too late. A man, junkie hopped up on some designer drug-MDA, "Sass-a-frass"-in Gibbs' mind he can hear Tony bitching about the indignity of it being the so called 'love drug' and not meth or coke or heroin. Upon arrival, paramedics found Tony unresponsive to stimuli. The medevac chopper landed in a patch of grass and whisked him away to the closest Level 1 Acute Trauma Hospital.

Gibbs wanted to hunt the little bastard down. He was beside himself with anger that someone else had changed his life, again. When he was blocked from the investigation, he railed, first at Vance, then at Ducky when he quoted some damned passage from the bible about a time for sorrow. Gibbs replied with 'Vengeance is mine" and slammed out. Even though only Tobias, Jack, and AD knew they were married, Vance and Ducky still should have backed him.

It was a moot point anyway since a few hours later the son of a bitch was found dead. Official cause of death was OD.

Tony's friend Marcos was one of the first officers on the scene and lead investigator. Marcos thought it was wrong of NCIS to block Gibbs and had kept him in the loop by providing him copies of everything even though it was an open and shut case. Man takes drugs, man flips out from drugs, man viciously attacks someone and leaves him for dead, man dies himself.

Apparently the suspect's jackrabbit run into the street had brought him into close and personal contact with a truck. Hit and run. Thrown his body off into a copse of trees. Where he suffered a massive seizure. The autopsy showed blunt force trauma, hemorrhaging in the brain and cardiac arrest- the effects of convulsions and high body temperature. The kid literally cooked himself to death and bashed his own brain in. The note from the ME said the kid was conscious and aware right up to the end and that with his injuries from being run over, his death was a very painful one. Good. Gibbs couldn't help but feel the thrill of triumph the knowledge brought him. It wasn't quite an eye for an eye but it was close enough.

====== Chapter 2 =====

Day 1-

The damned doctors say I have to write in this damned journal. The family advocate stressed the HAVE TO part. What if I don't? They're not gonna let me see Tony? I'd like to see them try and stop me. Where the hell do they get off? How is my writing or not going to help him-or not? Apparently my anger issues are detrimental to him. He's in a damned coma. This is some damned program they have here. I have to write every day starting with yesterday. And I have to comply because he can't be fucking moved without killing him.

What brings you here/How did you hear about us? Are they fucking kidding? Like we're on vacation? We're here because some fucking moron decided to crush a bunch of pills up, snort em, and get high. We're here because that same fucking moron had a psychotic break, attacked my husband, with a walking stick while he was stretching after his run, then knocked him to the ground before pounding his head against the ground over and over and over again until it was a bloody mess of squishy flesh. I heard about you when the Detective showed up at my door saying my husband was dying. Tony hasn't yet heard about you because he hasn't regained consciousness, he's in critical condition with traumatic brain injury.

What are you feeling right now, are you scared, angry? What the fuck kind of question is that? Of course I'm scared and angry. Did ya miss question one?

Tell us about your experience: Well isnt' that just the loaded question? My experience... what can I say except for it's shit. The first thing that happened when I got here was that I was inundated with paperwork. No one would answer any of my questions. It was all fill out this form, sign that form. Here's another, and another, and another. You jackasses don't realize or seem to care that we didn't come here to fill out paperwork. I came here to see my husband.

Day 1 continued

One of the nurses and I got into it. She told me to go home. I said not until I saw Tony or one of his doctors. She said she would have to insist, I said to go ahead, more words were exchanged, she glared at me, I glared back. Harry Adams' kid Joey came up from security. I spent the night in the chair next to the coffee pot.

Day 2

I got to see Tony's doctor, not Tony, after almost a sixteen hour wait. His said his name is Matt Damon, no relation, whatever the fuck that meant. Anyway, Damon said that because it was an emergency and they didn't know who he was at first, they went ahead and treated Tony.

Almost all of the damage was on his left side. A CAT scan showed a mess, several skull fractures, the bone at the back of the skull was broken loose. They pinned his left hip and put a plate in across his pelvis. Damon said they put a probe in his head to monitor his brain activity and pressure. He has some defensive wounds on his arms and hands and one cut on his face that they had to sew shut. And his left elbow is broken- they set it in a cast. A broken rib punctured his lung. His kidneys were bruised. His spleen ruptured and was removed. He has a tear in the lining of his heart, they fixed it though. There was a nurse in with him, one on one because of his injuries. That's good right?

Dr. Damon said I could see Tony, but I couldn't go into his room today without full protection and then just for a few minutes. If I didn't go then, I couldn't go back in until tomorrow. He's in a clean room. Because of his injuries and the dirt and germs he could have picked up and because of the damage to his lungs from the plague. He's on a ventilator and oxygen to help him breathe. Dr. Damon asked me if I had any questions right now, I didn't, I just wanted to see Tony.

I had to go into a room, take off my street clothes, had to put on scrubs and paper booties. Damon went with me, showed me how to use the scrub brush thingy especially under my nails. Had to put on a paper mask. It had rubber strings on it and it scratched. Before we went in, Damon asked me if I was sure. I had been waiting to see Tony for almost 24 hours. Of course I was sure.

I thought I knew what to expect, that I was prepared. I wasn't.

He has more machines around him than I could even count - two or three on a pole. And tubes everywhere. The vent in his throat, mask around his face, IV lines in his right foot and one in his chest. There was another line running blood in his right arm. Catheter. Chest tube drawing out fluid. Kidney tube draining blood. His face is swelled up and black and blue. There's a bolt sticking out the top of his head. A one on one nurse is a bad, bad thing.

How do I feel?.

They shaved Tony's hair.

Day 3

Slept in the chair some. Dad and AD showed up around 0300. Marcos called them. Abby, Ziva, and McGee came around 0800. I don't know who called them.

Got my eyes opened, now I finally see what exactly Tony meant all those years ago when he said the team had changed. I should have pushed harder then, but when he smiled that barely there smile and said that it didn't matter because *WE* were what mattered, I couldn't help but kiss him. I let it slide.

Abby demanded to see Tony then pouted and stamped her foot when I said she couldn't. McGee made a crack about Tony finally getting retribution for chasing a married woman and Ziva said he should have been more aware of his surroundings.

I don't know what I looked like but Dad and AD looked like they were going to stroke out. Marcos and Adams' kid chased them out.

Met with the doctors. Tony is hanging in but having some problems. We can't see him today for a bit because there is just no room. Damon said to go home. Gave me a pager.

How do I feel? Angry, pissed off, and ashamed that I didn't see what Tony has been seeing and didn't realize that he was right about their attitudes.

Abby is just like a spoilt child with a toy. She doesn't want it unless someone else is playing with it. Doesn't get her own way, watch out for a temper tantrum. Her way, attention on her, she has to be the center of attention.

McGee's holier than thou, I have degrees from MIT and Johns Hopkins and you're just a cop who barely graduated college. He will never see past what's in front of his face. And will never, ever, stand up to someone else.

Ziva apparently never forgave Tony for killing Rivkin and showing up her father, or Somalia, or everything that has gone wrong in her life, and is still so damned smug, carrying around a righteous anger. She's poison, infecting everyone around her. They're like little ducks following her around. Did I think my being with Tony was insulating him from all this?

Tony is the one we should all beg forgiveness from.

Also I'm afraid. Afraid that if Dad and AD see Tony like I saw him last night, either of them might have a real, honest heart attack. Afraid that Tony won't make it through the night. I know there isn't anything I can do by staying here. And I can hear Tony saying that the old people need real beds.

Day 4

I don't think any of us slept well. Dad made breakfast. We pushed it around for a while. Got to the hospital at 0700. The nurse today is nice.

Damon came out around 10 with some neurological guy. They did another CAT scan. Tony's face is broken. Around his eyes, nose, and sinuses. The part of the bone in the back of his head has moved a little bit but not enough. His brain is swollen and bleeding so there is blood coming out of the tube in his head. And they stuck a tube in his nose to feed him.

He moves a lot in his...well, if sleep is what you'd call it. It doesn't mean he's waking up. Nurse Jackie said that people in comas move around all of the time. Sometimes they even make sounds like moans or groans or gurgles. We aren't to get our hopes up when we see or hear that. He won't be waking up until they stop giving him stuff that knocks him out.

Day 4 - evening.

Tony has been cold and his brain pressure is increased. The have the room warmed up a little, he has an electric blanket that blows hot air around him to keep him warm.

Day 5

One step forward, two back. Tony's brain swelling decreased and his temperature stayed good. But the CAT scan showed that the bone moved again. Damon and the other guy, the neurologist Smith, came out again. They need to do surgery to remove the small broken part of bone so that it doesn't pinch or rupture any blood vessels in his brain.

After surgery, they said Tony wasn't responding to them like he should but they aren't sure if it is the injuries or if it is the drugs so they are laying off the drugs.

We can see him tomorrow!

Day 6

We got back to the hospital in time to see Damon and Smith do a little show and tell around Tony - seven doctor wannabe's and a slew of people in the damned hall talking about what was wrong with him. And it's a lot.

Fractures:

Nose, sinuses, eye socket, skull, jaw, shoulder, collarbone, elbow, hip, pelvis, knee (they forgot to tell me that-same knee that Pitt got)

The list continued with collapsed lung, bruised kidneys, ruptured spleen (removed), aortic tear.

Then they used other words like coma, traumatic brain injury, possible respiratory failure, probable brain damage.

My heart fell. Dad muttered Jesus. AD got sick in a trash can. Damon apologized for not having seen us. As bad as it is, I'm glad. Now we know, no sugar coating.

Day 7

Tony is stable. Meaning he is still in a coma. His brain pressure is abating...slowly. His lung is better, the kidneys aren't draining into the bag anymore. They took off one machine and two bags of crap. And he isn't getting blood.

We got to see him 5 minutes every 2 hours. First me, then AD, then Dad.

Day 15.

Tony is still stable. Some lung guy has been consulting. He doesn't know shit. I told them to get Pitt.

I'm complying with the Tony in my head, I set up a routine. We get up, have breakfast, take care of house chores. Everyone drives themselves. Dad drives the truck, AD in Tony's car, and I take my car. Tony can bitch about us being not very green later. And about his dad's heavy fisted shifting . I know I heard him grinding the gears again this morning. We'll be replacing the transmission in the Mustang.

We are at the hospital from 0800-2000. I make sure the old guys are fed and home by 2100. I will never live it down when he finds out I call our dads the old guys. He'll laugh his damned head off.

I forgot to write in this damned thing. The family advocate chewed me out. I told her to go to hell. That made me feel better.

Day 16

Good news: We can all go in together as long as we don't cause him stress or strain. Tony twitched more than ever.

Bad news: Today was crap for Tony. Today was crap for us too. The lung guy walked in the room and said it would be a blessing if we shut everything off because Tony is suffering and he is going to die anyway. AD popped him with a mean left hook. Pitt will be here tomorrow.

I feel jealous of AD.

I feel furious because Tony doesn't need any negativity, *ESPECIALLY* from someone who is supposed to be in charge of making him better. .

I feel sad because I don't want Tony to suffer any more than he has.

I feel devastated because Tony is the whole of my life.

The NCIS group was at the house when we got home. Abby was childish, Ziva was sneering and sarcastic, McGee was an ass. They stood out on the porch raising hell for about 45 minutes and refused to leave. Apparently I'm supposed to let Tony alone and take care of them. Be their dad or some shit like that. Abby went so far as to stomp and say she was here first and Tony was just a usurper. I belonged to her and NCIS not him. Jack, AD, and I went into the house, slammed the door and I told them to get the hell off of my lawn. They just stood there pounding on the door, yelling. Like I've got time for this kind of shit.

Jack got sick of it and called the cops. Marcos showed up with three cars, took em away in handcuffs, and towed their vehicle. Marcos' brother Javier came over with some papers for me to sign. Said he works for Chegwidden.

Not once did they ask about Tony, how he was doing, what was going on.

Day 17

Pitt says the other guy is an asshat. Tony doesn't have a temperature, he doesn't have pneumonia, he doesn't have blood clots, and he doesn't have any bedsores. His brain pressure has slowly been coming down which means the leaky bleeding is stopping. The swelling in his face is going away too. Tony is not suffering, he has enough pain meds to float a rhino. His lungs are a little crackly but mostly scarring is old. His heart looks fine and so do his breaks. The sock things are a precaution.

Pitt also said Tony's a little ugly but that's genetics and he was already brain damaged because he was a Buckeye. Made AD and Jack laugh. It was a little funny.

Javier and Marcos came to the hospital today, they come every other day with their Abuela Rosa. This time Chegwidden was with 'em. Javier told Jack that all of our neighbors filed charges against the team too- for disturbing the peace and loitering. AJ says they'll stick. He says he's my attorney now. I didn't ask.

Vance showed up at the hospital. Asked if restraining orders were really necessary and wanted me to drop the charges. AJ said yes the restraining orders were necessary and the charges would remain. Vance left. He never asked about Tony.

AJ struck all of 'em from the visitor's list. There are only a handful of people on it now: Me, Dad, AD, Marcos 'n his family, AJ, and Tobias. Not that anyone can see Tony anyway. Only the three of us are allowed in there. Hopefully, when and if Tony gets better, we can revise the list.

Day 21

Don't give me shit. I didn't have anything to write. We are taking things slowly.

AJ is dealing with the restraining orders and charges against the team. Refused any and all contact with Abby, McGee, and Ziva - Vance too. I got a call from Vance. He called the nurse's station and told them it was urgent. The urgency was a case that they couldn't get solved, pressure from SecNav. Told Vance to fuck off. Gave AJ my badge, gun, and resignation, said I didn't want to know any more about it.

Day 23

They are starting to wean Tony off of the vent and ease up on the sedation. He's moving more and making more noise.

Day 24

Same as yesterday.

Day 25

Ditto

Day 30

I was talking to Jack about the fishing hole when Tony squeezed my hand. AD called the nurse, Lola today. She checked him over and said he's looking good. I'm trying to not get my hopes up.

His bruises are taking on the deep purple or sickly green that they get when they come from real deep. His head is eggplant ish in some spots.

They are still shaving his head. My hair is longer than his. I miss playing with it.

Day 31

Tony moved his hand on purpose!

Boyd, the nurse I like the least was repositioning him. She grabbed Tony's arm and moved his hand out of my grasp- and placed it across his stomach-so I wasn't holding his hand. I wasn't paying attention to what he was doing when I felt something brush my arm. I took his hand back and was holding it. Boyd turned back around, frowned at me and put Tony's hand back on his stomach.

This time I was watching. I got Jack's attention too. Tony was frowning. He lifted his hand back up and started patting the bed, searching for me. When he found my hand, he grabbed it tightly. I was telling him that he was doing a good job, encouraging him, when Damon came in.

He had us do it again. This time in addition to his frown, Tony grunted and wrinkled his nose. It was that disgusted look and sound he makes when he discovers that someone put butter on his hamburger. It took a lot of effort on Boyd's part to get Tony's hand away from mine and by the time he started getting distressed, Tony had done it six more times.

I feel hopeful.

Day 32

We had to stay home today. Jack had a cough last night and AD had a sore throat. As much as I hated to stay away, any kind of illness will be fatal for Tony right now.

Boyd was a bitch to me on the phone when I called at noon. She is opposed to same sex marriage and gay people in general. Lola called when she came on and told me that Tony didn't move much at all today and didn't respond to them. But he doesn't have a fever so that's good.

Day 33

Still stayed home. Old people on antibiotics and rest per Ducky. He showed up at breakfast this morning looking old and tired. Victoria took ill the night of Tony's attack, she passed away the next day. Ducky took three weeks of bereavement leave and just found out about the severity of Tony's injuries this morning. He was told that Tony got into a fight with some husband. Told Ducky he did, his. Ducky just took it in stride. Asked a few questions, got the gist of it. I tried to explain that it wasn't about keeping our marriage a secret. It was about our private life, away from NCIS, something good that was ours, not anyone else's.

Lola called with report four times-once just to say that someone turned Boyd in to the Director of Nursing about her treatment of patients and she was sacked. It wasn't me. I don't care how anyone treats me as long as Tony gets the care he deserves and needs to come back to me.

Tony still isn't responding to them. They're running some more tests this afternoon. Results should be back tomorrow morning.

Day 34

AD and Jack stayed home today. When I got to the hospital this morning, Damon and Smith said that Tony had a setback. He didn't respond to them at all when they tried to run him through their tests.

A candy striper dropped a breakfast tray, made a god awful mess. Tony turned his head sharply towards the noise. He didn't open his eyes but looked directly to where the commotion was. I was standing there waiting for her to clean it up when Smith nudged Damon and motioned me to be quiet.

They were watching Tony. He was making these motions with his face, then just stopped. He wrinkled his nose, cocked his head just a little bit, and sniffed loudly. Then he smiled a little. He could smell my coffee.

Tony didn't have a setback, he was just ignoring them. Once I sat in my chair, he latched on to my hand, no fumbling around. I couldn't help but smile.

It was a good day.

Day 36

Amira got the damned chicken pox. We've all been exposed except for Ducky. Even though we've been at the hospital since seeing Amira, we can't go back for a few days. Ducky sat with Tony today. Said Tony kept turning towards the door and frowning. Ducky thinks Tony is pissed with him.

Day 37

Ducky reports same as yesterday. And Tony is definitely pissed at him.

Day 38

Tony misses me when I'm not there. He expresses it the only way he can, by either ignoring them or not cooperating. Smith says this is actually fantastic because he is getting muscle coordination back. Tony tenses up or simply goes limp. Said it's like trying to get a toddler into a pair of shoes.

I probably should be disappointed that he isn't cooperating. I'm not really.

Day 39

Ducky stole a phone off of one of the desks at the nurses station and plugged it in in Tony's room. He called around noon and said that Tony had done nothing but scowl at him all morning and simply would not comply with the staff. And when Ducky would talk to him, Tony would go so far as turn his head away from Ducky. I couldn't help but laugh, said "Well, yeah Duck, he's pissed at ya.'

Ducky had me on speakerphone so Tony could hear my voice, we talked for a while. Tony smiled at Duck and patted his hand when he left.

Ducky has been forgiven.

Day 40

Back at the hospital today. Tony smiled when I walked into the room and held my hand.

He cooperated with staff and worked hard at testing. He grabbed their hands when they directed him. He can barely lift his legs but the effort is there. His left side is a little slower but there.

Still hasn't opened his eyes or spoken other than groans.

Day 43

Tony has been making huge strides. They got him out of bed with this crane like machine and a sling that lifts Tony into a chair. The first day he was up for about five minutes before he obviously couldn't tolerate it. It is hard because of the casts on his left side.

Day 45

Tony got the casts off of his arm and leg today. It was loud but it didn't seem to faze him a bit. They are moving him around a little more. It doesn't matter that he doesn't have his eyes open.

Day 50

Physical Therapy comes in every day, has ever since the first day they used the crane on him. They sit him up on the edge of the bed to dangle several times a day. There are four big staff members there to hold him up.

Tony seemed so frail compared to them.

Day 56

TONY TALKED!

AD had been rambling on all day about his wives. Jack and him and Nurse Liam had been talking. Liam left the room. AD said something about one of his exes and how much she loved Tony and how maybe he should call her.

Clear as day, Tony say's "NO" We went still.

AD said "You don't want me to call Ava?" Again Tony said "NO"

We all looked at each other then Tony.

Then AD asked, "What about Sheila" "NO"

Karen? NO

Monica? NO

"What about Lila?"

Tony said "OK" then there was a beat or two "M-Lila." He never opened his eyes but...

HE TALKED AND HE UNDERSTOOD AD.

I feel jealous of AD

Day 57

Lila was Tony's nanny, AD said since he was two, from his earliest remembrance. AD and Lila were together throughout Tony's teenage years. She went to his graduation from RIMA and from Ohio State. Then she ran away to the Peace Corps. AD left word with someone who knows someone that can get word to Lila.

Tony is doing well. Not always aware, but most of the time. Hasn't opened his eyes.

Day 62

Every day Tony, once a day since he's been becoming more and more aware, asks for Lila. When we say NO, he shuts down, doesn't talk. He's searching for her, waiting for her.

I'm right here. Always.

Day 63

I know why AD left Lila. He's afraid of her. She can take him. I like Lila.

Lila has purple hair. Not the blue hair rinse old ladies have. But PURPLE hair. Like Abby's friends purple. And her nose is pierced.

Tony is like Lila. He has the same mannerisms, the way she talks with her hands, the way her mind works, their shared love of movies, her quick wit. Anne Elizabeth Paddington DiNozzo may be Tony's mother, but Lila ? Lila is his mom.

We heard her coming down the hall, yelling, "Where the hell is my son, Anthony DiNozzo, III?" Not Junior like AD calls him. He never told me that. When Lila came into the room, she whacked AD on the back of his chair, almost knocking him out of it, demanding to know why she hadn't been called sooner. She didn't even stop on her way over to Tony, kissed him on the forehead, and said "Hi Sweetie, I'm here. I'll take care of everything"

God help me, I should be grateful. I've been sitting here for 63 days. Other than occasional words, grasping of my hands, smiles...Nothing.

Lila says she's here and Tony opens his eyes. "Hi Mom."

I'm grateful. I really really really am grateful. I just... I don't know.

Day 65

Since she got here, Tony only opens his eyes in response to Lila, not me, not Jack or AD or even the nursing staff. Only Lila. We went home after a long frustrating day yesterday.

AD is not happy. They argued. Out in the hallway. In Italian. With hands waving.

That's where Tony gets it.

He looked out the door and smiled. And then slept the rest of the day.

At least he isn't in the coma any more.

Day 66

Tony and I were alone in his room, Lila and AD went to find something for dinner, Jack went to the head. I was holding his hand.. Tony finally opened his eyes with only me here, but he looked at me quizzically. For a while I held on to the thought he would remember me, that he would wake up and be okay. Maybe some physical disability that we could work around.

But today. Today he looked at me with such a questioning expression on his face. That beautiful, open expressive face. Questioning. Eyebrows furrowed, slightly raised. Staring right at me. His eyes flicked to our joined hands up to my face and back again.

A feeling of dread welled up in my soul. After all of this time, waiting for him to come back to me, he doesn't recognize me. Questioning why I was holding his hand. I couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow past the lump in my throat...ached. I mean, I thought he knew, and now I can't tell. I wish he could talk well enough to ask but goddammit this isn't his fault.

AD, Lila, and Jack all came back at the same time. Tony drifted back off. I excused myself, saying I was tired. I came home after that. Went to our room, found one of his shirts buried in the closet that still smelled like him, bawled myself to sleep. I need to do laundry.

I don't much like Lila today.

Day 68

I slept 36 hours straight through. I woke up to Jack yelling at me on the answering machine, calling my name. He was urgent, frantic. Tony was upset. All day *YESTERDAY*, last night, this morning.

Tony started raising hell roughly twenty minutes after I left, no reason they could find for his pain. They have no idea why. He seems he is going downhill. Hurry.

I got pulled over. The officer didn't give me a ticket.

I found them standing out in the hall, wringing their hands, watching the staff try to settle Tony without drugs - worried old people. I pushed past them into his room, not knowing what I would find.

Tony was swatting, ineffectually, at Liam's hands as he petted him, trying to soothe him. Saying NO to Liam's quiet murmurs. Scowling. Frantic.

I must have made a noise because he whipped his eyes to the door. I hope he didn't do any more damage.

He stilled. And then Tony sighed, long and drawn out. Disappointment shone in his eyes. 'WHERE. YOU. BEEN."

He didn't forget me. And he's talking.

Day 70

Tony is going to a step down unit. I don't know how I feel about that. On one hand it means he is getting better. On the other, he won't be getting as much attention. What if something happens?

I should be happy he doesn't need his own nurse. Right?

Day 72

This week has been busy. Every day Tony was more and more aware. They are really working him hard. And me. I'm learning how to do everything that they do, and why. I want Tony to come home sometime. I want to be the one to take care of him. Breakfast. Nap. Physical Therapy. Nap. Lunch. Nap. Occupational Therapy or Speech Therapy. Nap. Dinner. Physical Therapy again. Bed. Start again tomorrow. I sleep when Tony does. Reminds me of the advice we got when Kelly was a baby-sleep when they sleep.

Jack went back to Stillwater yesterday to check on things and get away from the hospital and sickness for a while. He's called every hour. Told him that he shoulda stayed. He groused at me some. Heard Emma Pool clucking at him in the background. She'll take care of him and mother hen him a while. It will be good for him, let someone take care of him for a change.

AD is leaving tomorrow to wrap up some business but then he's coming back. Plans on staying permanently.. Hard to believe he's been here over two months. Hasn't gotten on my nerves once. Been helpful even. Might be nice to have him around when Tony comes home.

Day 75

Lila went with AD. Thought they hated each other. Surprised the hell out of me when I caught em at it in the basement. Have to burn the toybox I was making for Amira. As Tony would say, there just isn't enough bleach in the world when you see your parents having sex. Or in-laws.

Lila couldn't look me in the eyes. And AD was extremely polite. They both were beet red from blushing. I couldn't help but rib AD and tell him to make sure to keep their doors locked. He lit out of the room like his ass was on fire.

Tony, my Tony, is still in there. He noticed the tension between me and them. After they left, Tony scowled at me and had his disappointed look on. He pointed accusingly at me and glared. "What you do?"

He's really coming along. I didn't even mind defending myself. Told him what happened. He laughed so hard, he started coughing. Nurse came running. She blamed me. Said it was a hospital, he was supposed to rest, not get riled up. Pitt walked in right then and told her laughter was the best medicine. She flounced out. Then he asked me what was so funny. I told him. Set Tony off again. Laughed so hard tears were rolling down his face.

Best day yet.

Day 80

Jack's back. Sold the store to one of the Cooper triplets, Mark. Said he got back to Stillwater and it just felt wrong. Said Mark's been asking him so he agreed. Cooper kid walked in with his wife, saying they really wanted to buy the place. Wanted the house too. Dad asked what would they give him for it. Ijits paid him $3 million. MILLION. Paid dad three and a half times what it was worth. Got more money than brains. Seems his wife thought it'd be 'charming' to run a store or some shit. Took him right over to the courthouse and the bank, even paid for a moving company to pack all his crap and store it until he gets settled. Said it was the least they could do for his 'good will', Jack says he thinks they were afraid he'd change his mind.

Dad seemed embarrassed 'cause he didn't ask, just did it. Now he's homeless and unemployed. Snarked that he shoulda thought of that before he quit his job. He laughed.

I ain't a kid but damned if I didn't feel better when he walked back into the room. Just knowing that my dad is here makes it better.

Tony slept most of the day. He does that. It's okay, doc says normal while his body recuperates. While he was sleeping, I talked to Jack about what the therapists have been saying - physical, occupational, respiratory. No stairs. Open living spaces. Clean air, no mold or mildew. I want to sell the house, get something that's ours.

Tony and I talked about it several times but it never made sense, it was paid for and suited our needs. Now...now that Tony has different needs and now that Jack is living with us - and he will because he belongs with us - we need a house with one level, hardwood floors, wide doors. Asked Jack if he would start looking. He said he would.

Day 85

Kid doctor came in with some brochures and pamphlets for group homes and assisted living places and was talking to Tony about them when I got there. He was arguing that it would be best because Tony would never be normal and be a burden on me. Threw the kid through the door and into the hall. Yelled at him to stay the hell out for good measure. Tony was upset the rest of the day.

Day 86

Met with the hospital administrator. Took it out on him. Tony's been here for almost three months, I was frustrated and had enough. In that time, there've been people telling Tony or saying in front of him, that he was going to die, it would be a blessing to shut off his life support, that he was a burden on his family, that it's not worth it and he should be shut away somewhere. Seems like I'm the only one pulling for and encouraging him. Who the hell are they to make decisions or assumptions?

Tony is *MY* husband, for better or worse, and he's sure the hell put up with worse from me. This? This is just a bump in the road, hardly worth mentioning. I want the best for him and us and our family. And we can't get it when the very people who are supposed to be looking out for him keep putting up roadblocks with their negative attitudes and homophobic tendencies. Only a handful of staff responsible for his daily care treats him with respect and I'm damned tired of it.

Admin guy apologized, said that if we didn't sue, they would be willing to 'absorb' the remaining bill after insurance pays. I'm not stupid. I signed the damned form.

Tony's transferring to rehab tomorrow.

I feel better.

Day 99

Been busy. Tony's rehab doctor talked about brain plastics. I didn't understand half of what he said but got the basics. The brain can form new cells and repair itself. The way he kept talking around it, I don't think he really knows what he was talking about. As long as it works I don't give a crap.

Tony is constantly working. Walking, talking, putting puzzles together, coloring, even watching the idiot box and messing around on the computer. He crashes into bed each night and sleeps. They won't let me stay here, and I only can visit during visiting hours from 1600-2000, if he's awake. The doc said the first year is vital, most of the improvements will be made then. After a year the recovery just isn't there. He has to be challenged constantly.

There is a scale called the Ranch Amigos, funny name, that measures Tony's progress. One is bad, ten is normal. At the beginning, right after the accident he was a one. Because of his injuries he hasn't been a solid level since then. He has some of this level, some of that one. Tony still has trouble speaking but uses the computer to talk through some program. The doctor says that his typing will get faster as he heals. I told him he's already faster than what he was before the accident.

Day 110

Yeah, yeah. I missed some days.

Day after my last entry Tony and I talked seriously about selling the house and getting something for us that he can get around easily in. After discussing what we would need in a new house with therapy, we made a plan. Had it partially derailed by AD. Well, not derailed exactly.

The trip AD and Lila took last month was finalizing a business deal that hit big. Brand new housing development in Dubai. Somehow, and I really don't want to know, AD came into some land that a developer wanted. He sold the land at a hefty premium. Turned around and bought three adjacent properties. One for him, one for Jack, ours in the middle. Jack paid AD for his, and half of ours.

I planted a sign in the yard of our house and had it sold within two days. To Ned Dornegat. He is working as a risk analysis/strategic planner over at Homeland. Said he couldn't stay at NCIS anymore. I didn't ask. He wants someplace permanent. Seemed disappointed that there wasn't a boat in the basement when we did the walkthrough. Wanted to move in as soon as possible, shook on it, next day he showed up with a check and I moved our things out.

So the last ten days have been spent working on our new house with some of Tony's frat brothers. That group has really rallied around behind Tony, and me.

Matt is a contractor and specializes in building ADA compatible houses. He's had inspectors and staff in there since we took possession of the property. Our's is being remodeled to have all hardwood floors, wide doors, state of the art air filtration system.

Mark is living in Alaska and can't get back right now. But he's been sending stuff to the house left and right. Things that make it easier for Tony. Grabber hooks to reach things on shelves and pick up things. Grippers to put on silverware for when Tony can't grasp small things. Things that I didn't even know they had that he comes in contact on a daily basis being an occupational therapist. He's been letting me know what to expect, things to look for. And he's been working with Matt to make sure things like lighting are optimal for Tony's new life.

Steve has been doing the shrinky thing. Stuff I have to comply with to get Tony home faster, make it smoother. We still have our joint sessions at the center with the psychologist there, but this is stuff that I have to work out on my own. My anger issues. I showed him this journal. Turns out the hospital wasn't half crocked afterall. The writing stuff did help me sort some of it out in my own mind. Still does.

Their wives have been visiting with Tony too. One of them, Stephanie, is an interior designer. She has been meeting with Tony on a daily basis getting his input on everything from color to layout to switchplates. She has a tablet that has a video camera and some sort of program that can 'paint' the walls so he can see what the room will look like in different times of day

It is turning out to be a gorgeous home, filled with light and warmth. Similar to our old one but only one floor. Three bedrooms, two baths. The house was four bedrooms but one was turned into the master bath. Huge roll in shower and a jetted tub big enough for two, both equipped with grab bars. The kitchen is amazing, it is open enough and so well laid out that Tony will easily be able to get around in his wheelchair.

Hell, we even have a warm water pool that he can walk right into or wheel into. And a garage with workshop. I have my own space. There's an intercom system. And Tony will have to have one of those alert necklaces or bracelets on at all times.

Day 314

Haven't written in this thing in a long while, lost it in Tony's room at the Center. Fell down the space between the shelving units. It has been seven months since Tony came to rehab, ten since he was attacked.

He's doing good, about as good as it will get anyway.

The things that are bad are many.

He still is weak and lists to the side. He has a cane, a walker, and a wheelchair. He still has times where his words won't come out but he can type on his tablet or write down what he wants to say. Buttons are a bitch. He can't drive. He can't do stairs. He gets tired easily.

But the good things far outweigh the bad.

Tony can walk with most days with a cane, a few with a walker, and rarely does he need his wheelchair. He can still play the piano, play the guitar, and sing. He remembers everything. Truly. Everything. They're saying the cognitive part of his brain was less damaged than the motor part, luck of the draw. I don't agree, think it's something else, something all Tony, but whatever, I'm glad. Means anything is possible. If you ask him about a date and time, he can tell you what he was doing or saw or heard. Tony is still as clever as ever. He is still Tony, just a slower, more deliberate Tony.

He can talk or type or write. Tony has no issues communicating his wants, needs, desires. It was Tony who insisted we get some alone time in this place. Admin was dumb enough to ask why, he sure told them. In detail. Asked if they could write Conjugal on some form, the girl's face was bright red. Jesus. Tony said "I don't care what the fuck you write." He barely stuttered and he smiled the whole time! Then the girl smiled too. Tony is still really good with people. And oh yeah, all his equipment works. I don't know who's more happy about that, him or me. Probably me.

His hair grew back.

He's being discharged today. We're going home. To our new house.

In the last seven months we have had a lot of conversations, cleared the air on a lot of things.

Found out that he always had his memory, never forgot me. I can smile as I write this but I was terrified at the time. That day, when he looked at our hands so full of questions and confusion. I panicked when I thought I'd been left behind once again. Since then I've learned that his confusion was because I was there. He couldn't figure out why I wasn't at work, why I hadn't been at work for a long time. Why I was openly holding his hand in full view of god and creation. But when I left, he panicked. Thought I'd left him. God. I'd never been prouder that we're husbands. I tell him now, anytime I feel like it.

Found out I can live with Jack and AD and Lila and Evan hovering behind me and it doesn't make me as crazy as it once did. I don't push them back, just move over to let them share the space. It isn't constant now. They go back to their homes. Evan is short for Evangelina, Tony has a hard time with certain words. She's dad's wife, they dated before he met Mom, met at the supermarket, and got married last month. Jack said that experience has taught him that life is fleeting and to grab happiness with both hands.

I can live with a stepmother. She makes Jack happy. I don't have to worry as much about him now. And she loves Tony, always fussing about him. Makes him embarrassed to have two mothers fussing about him, but pleased too. That makes me happy.

I can live with a sister. Evan has a daughter who just turned 30, she's a nurse. Emma actually lives directly behind our house on the next block over. Emma's husband died last fall leaving her with two kids to raise alone. Now we really are uncles. Matt put in a walkway between our houses, cut a gate in the back fence, and fenced off the pool so they would be safe in the future.

Sam is a precious fourteen month old and Lilly is two. The kids visit their 'Unca Toy' toddling as fast as their legs can carry them. The days he has to use the voice synthesis don't faze them. And they don't seem to notice or care that he travels with the aid of a wheelchair one day, walker the next, or cane another. When he's using his walker, they hop on the seat and ride around. Same with his wheelchair.

I can live with all the changes Tony's new abilities require. Hell, I would make a million changes if that is what it would take to bring him home. He always wears shoes or goes barefoot in the house, no socks to slip on the floors. No throw rugs on the floor for Tony to trip on means sound travels in the house. There are handrails in strategic places in the house that aren't just functional, they look beautiful too. The new front loading washer and dryer are easier for Tony to reach. Our new refrigerator has the ice box on the bottom. Our range has all of the controls on the front above the oven door. All of the doors have levers instead of traditional knobs...so do all of the faucets. Our bathrooms have raised toilets. There are lights along the floor in every room that come on whenever the light switch is off, they are hardwired in and provide a gentle light in the night. Even in a power outage they will stay on. Matt was most proud of those and couldn't wait to show me them.

Found out about work, the team, NCIS that is. Found out what started all of the animosity and resentfulness from Abby. She cornered me last night when I was at the mall getting Tony some track pants for his trip home from rehab today. He's lost a bit of weight and muscle tone, his old clothes don't fit him anymore.

It was her birthday two years ago, that was what did it. Strange to think it's been almost a year since all of this happened. Anyway, two years ago the week before her birthday, we had a joint op with ATF, Tony was undercover with one of theirs. He'd been gone all week with no contact. He came back in one piece, not a scratch on him. Took him to dinner at his favorite sports bar. Then we went home and broke the bed. Literally.

Forgot to give her her birthday present, hell, I forgot to pick it up. She saw us leave and make plans to meet for dinner. She thought we were tricking her, or trying to, into thinking we forgot her birthday. Guess she waited in her lab for three hours before she went home. Then waited all night. The next day was spent in briefings with ATF and the Attorney General and SecNav. And so was the day after that. Then was the weekend and I broke down and bought a bed because there was no way I was sleeping on the couch again. By the time I remembered to pick up her gift, it was a week later. She was pissed because she thought he tookher role in my life. That's what started her attitude towards Tony.

Abby was standing in the aisle at Schields stomping her foot, carrying on and causing a scene. She just kept ranting on how she was supposed to be my favorite. She was the one that was like a daughter to me, not him. I couldn't help but bark out a laugh when she said that. Shut her up real quick, think it surprised her that I laughed at her.

I think it was all made pretty clear for Abby when Nurse Jackie came around the corner. She gave me a hug. She asked me how Tony was doing, we chatted a bit, about the new house, about it being our seventh anniversary, and what we were going to do. We drifted towards the checkout together and through it, talking about my plans for an anniversary party, who was coming other than 'the old people'. When she left, Jackie told me to give my husband a big kiss for her. I remember laughing and saying that I would give him a kiss from me, but I'd tell Tony that I saw her. I told her she should come over for the party. She said she would call me and she sashayed off to her car while I went to mine.

Left Abby standing there with her mouth open. Didn't mean to be rude. I was running late to see Tony. And I forgot about leaving her there until I was telling Tony about it. When I thought about it later I realized that Abby was the dividing point. Ziva still harbored a grudge against Tony for all the world's ills and everything in her life gone wrong, but Abby got her nose bent out of joint and went right along with Ziva, all for a piddly-ass reason. McGee never could stand up against a strong personality, much less two, he bought into it, all of the hatred and disappointment the other two were spouting.

I didn't see it. I should have seen it. How selfish they could be. That all their dependency and expectations would come out as resentment someday. Don't know if they really looked down on Tony or envied him, doesn't matter. It's over now and I just go on.

Tony taught me something. It's not about what you expect to get back in return. It's about what you know and what you do, and what you do with what you know. Whether you get anything back or not. Well I know Tony has given me more than I'll ever repay. I know I will doanything for him.

He never asks about the team, never did. It's like he doesn't care 'cause he already knew. He already knew what was important. Tony is stronger than I am. I think he's smarter, too.

I feel pretty good.

Doc explained more to us this morning that the left side, side that was damaged, was responsible for listening, reading, speaking, and writing. Also thinking and memory. He told us in the long term that Tony will never do the things he did in the same way. He also said that there was an unofficial benchmark-two years. It takes around two years to get back to your previous health. Health being the key word here. Not ability. But before this, his health was damned good so we have that to look forward to.

Doc warned us that eventually people burnout and quit working towards therapy goals or decide that acquiring additional skills is not worth the effort. While it isn't the view of many of his peers, Doc said he doesn't believe in making them continue on with therapy.

He said if it happens, not to try and push Tony through these periods, it really is okay. Stopping therapy doesn't mean that Tony's recovery will stop or that he'll backslide on his skills. He doesn't need formal therapy to keep growing or to develop new skills. And he's never needed help making friends.

There are precautions that we have to be vigilant about for the rest of Tony's life. There are things about Tony that we can never change. Some terrible, some not so terrible.

Tony has to be extremely careful about being exposed to toxic materials. That means no fumes or toxic substances. He has to stay out of my shop because of the paint and solvent fumes and chemicals. He has to stay away from non-prescription drugs and alcohol. No more of his favorite craft beer, ever. No more cleaning and cleaning chemicals. Of course with his balance issues bending over even slightly puts him ass over tea kettle so his days of scrubbing out the tub are over.

Tony has to stop with the multivitamins and natural herbs that he was taking. Many vitamins and minerals are toxic and may interact in unknown ways with his prescriptions. No more of his protein shake before and after exercise. No more exercise. At least not what he was used to doing.

Tony now has to have a completely balanced diet, no pizza or chinese takeaway or those pizza roll things or his favorite candy coated, colored sugar in the mornings.

Our life revolves around his pill keeper and his appointment book. Tony has at least one medical appointment every week. He can never miss his medications, particularly those to control his seizures.

Since people with a head injury are up to 8 times more likely to sustain additional head injuries, he has to be monitored continuously. Failure to use seatbelts and protective headgear can kill him. Not that he went anywhere without his seatbelt before. But protective headgear? He hates that he has to wear a bike helmet when he goes for a walk but he does it. At least the neighborhood kids don't point or laugh at him.

He will always have to have someone around to help him get around, he's just too unsteady. He used to play football and basketball and muck about with the neighborhood kids. Now it's going to be a struggle some days to make it to the couch. Jack teases him that they can share his collection of canes. But it isn't much of a joke. They really do share the canes.

He will never work again, has no job to go back to. He lost his financial independence, the pride of a job well done, knowing he was working to support himself and make the world a better place.

Tony will never drive again. His mustang was his baby. He washed and waxed it and got it detailed on the same schedule he had his apartment cleaned. Hell, I still haven't told him that AD stripped the transmission . It was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make when I sold that car. But it is so much easier for him to get in and out of a SUV, and it's big enough for his adaptive equipment.

Tony will never have the gilded tongue he once had. Now, some days, he struggles to get the words out of his head to his mouth. He is still quick, but now he is just as apt to pound it out on his computer tablet. Unless he's singing, then the words flow out. They don't know why, but say it's actually common.

I'm still getting used to the synthesized voice speaking Tony's words. And it isn't Tony's words. Instead of being blasted from the kitchen, "Why is there an empty fucking milk carton in the refrigerator? And no dirty glasses in the sink means you drank it out of the carton again damn it!" Now I get a computer saying "Need. Milk. Store." I miss the yabba yabba.

Tony can play the piano and guitar like nobody's business, his fingers glide across the keys or pluck out complicated chords and melodies with ease. But he has a hell of a time doing up buttons and snaps.

Tony moves slowly and deliberately. No more playful tackles onto the couch. Well, there was that one time, but it wasn't all that safe. And the old people gave me hell. Even Though Tony started it.

I've learned that it isn't Tony's disability that holds him back now, it is other people and their perception of him. At the market, or out and about, people talk loudly to him. As if his being a bit slow moving means he's deaf too. That is probably the reason they have you do trial runs during rehab. Not so that you can adjust to your limitations. So that you can talk it out and adjust to other people's changed perceptions of you. It bothers me more than it does Tony. In fact, Tony doesn't give a damn and teases me...by singing "Jet iiii-is maa-ad." The babies picked it up and sing it too if they're around. In the past it would have bothered me, now it just makes me grateful when that teasing glint appears in his eyes.

I've learned a lot ..about myself, about my family, about my friends. I learned who our real friends are. Ducky. Brad. Stephanie. Tobias. Dornegat. Marcos. Javier. AJ. Tony's frat brothers and their families. The ones that stood beside us and helped when we needed it, stood back when we didn't, and let us fall on our own when we were too stubborn to listen to anyone.

I've learned that our dads are truly there for us, and that they really aren't that different. Lila loves Tony with a fierceness that I've rarely seen. Evan pokes at me to eat better and tells their neighbors that I'm the stubborn son. Between the four of them & Ducky, the make sure our fridge is full of nutritious crap.

I've learned that this recovery is a slow grind and will take a lifetime. I'm pretty sure glaciers move faster sometimes. Tony has had weeks that seemed day after day after day and were changeless, with only tiny improvements or worse, monumental setbacks. Days or nights when muscle spasms rush on him like a freight train and there isn't anything I can do other than try to massage it out and dump him in the jacuzzi.

I've learned what truly matters and what doesn't and we got a housekeeper to deal with the stuff that doesn't. I put all of my concentration into what does.

Tony.

~fin~


End file.
